by Nicole Nwosu
All of that sounded completely ridiculous. They were making him out to be dangerous. Sam didn’t look like he was that much trouble. “What the heck?”
“Tell me about it,” he muttered. “With all the rumors, would that stop you from talking to me right now?”
“No. What people think you are isn’t you.”
“Good to know.” He nodded to himself. “About the thing between Jasmine and Bridget. No, wait, Beatrice. That’s her name.”
“Bridget?”
He waved a hand, letting me know that he couldn’t care less about her name. “Why does she hate you?”
“It started in eighth grade.”
Sam leaned against the wall to properly face me as a group of people passed by him. “Eighth grade?”
“She liked a guy and we had this school dance. He came up to us. She thought he was going to ask her to dance, and he ended up asking me instead. And attempted to kiss me.”
Sam’s jaw dropped. “You’re lying.”
I winced at the memory. “I socked him in the eye by accident.”
“How do you punch someone by accident?”
“I was shocked, okay? It was completely unexpected. Beatrice has never forgiven me.”
“You were thirteen,” he said. “What the fuck? She hates you for no reason.”
“She started hating Jasmine when Jasmine dated Sean. It escalated. Beatrice’s dramatic.”
Sam pushed himself off the wall. “You can be too.”
“Don’t compare me to her.” My phone buzzed and I pulled it out of my pocket. Cedric’s contact name popped up. I’d left him on the couch. “I gotta go.” The corners of my lips went up. “I’ll bump into you soon.”
Was that flirting? What was I doing?
He chuckled over the music. Back in the living room, I spotted Cedric on the couch. Going from one Cahill to another.
On Monday, Austin and I entered the cafeteria not long after the bell for lunch rang. “I hate you.”
We both sat at our table with the rest of our friends. “I wasn’t in the right state of mind!” Austin said. “It all worked out. You got the guy.”
“I did not ‘get the guy,’” I exclaimed. “This is not a rom-com. This is my life.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Brandon added. “I think we should all celebrate this occasion.”
“Celebrate what?” Caleb pulled up a chair between Brandon and Jon Ming while Sam took a seat on the other side of me.
“What are we having for lunch today?” Sam teased, looking at my food.
“Mace got asked out on a date,” Jasmine said to Caleb. “By Cedric!”
Sam tensed, surprise evident on his face. “My cousin asked you out?”
“Right?” Jon Ming agreed.
“Hey, Stevie.” Jasmine grabbed a chair and pulled it over for her to sit between us. Stevie looked a little uncomfortable, her eyes flicking over all of the boys at the table.
“They don’t bite. Don’t worry,” I assured her. There were shoelaces wrapped around the strap of her backpack, similar to how my cleat strings were wrapped around my own.
Jasmine groaned when Caleb winked and said, “Unless you want us to.”
Austin tilted his chin in the direction of the backpack she put down. “What do you play?”
“Volleyball.”
“One question for you to sit with us.” Austin leaned forward. “Do you like eating?”
“What kind of question is that?”
Austin’s hands hit the table. “Welcome to the group.”
“Here we go,” Jasmine muttered, eyes on Beatrice as she walked into the loud cafeteria with her group of friends and headed right for us.
“Does she want to die?” Jacob asked as Beatrice and her friends approached our table. She wasn’t looking at any of us; her eyes were on Sam.
“Hey, Sam.”
He raised his head and she took that as an invitation to touch his shoulder, and I coughed. “Can you do that somewhere else? I’m trying to eat.”
Beatrice ignored me, focusing on Sam. “What are you doing later?”
The question was casual, as if it wasn’t the first time and the realization hit me. Oh my God. There would be nothing wrong with that if this was someone else. But this was Beatrice. And Sam. After he called her Bridget at the party. After he said he wanted to know why she was so mean to me, to us.
“Busy,” he quipped. “I’ll catch you around.”
When Beatrice was gone, Jasmine beat me to the question, irritation in her voice. “You hooked up with Beatrice?”
Despite everyone’s gaze on him, Sam didn’t waver, his fingers locked and pressed against his lips. “Kind of.”
“When?” Jasmine asked.
“Last term,” he mumbled.
“Of all people at this school?” I scoffed. “I’m not even surprised.”
Sam looked offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re such a bad boy,” Jacob joked, hitting Jon Ming playfully as if he was supposed to find it funny.
Sam didn’t bother to comment as he went through his phone and the conversation shifted to a different topic. I was bothered. He wanted to be friends? Hooking up with my mortal enemy wasn’t a good start.
The cold air partially numbed my face as I ran inside the school after coming from the rec center later that day. A few people still lingered in the hallways as I approached my locker.
“Macy?” Caleb walked over to me. “School ended two hours ago, why are you here?”
“I forgot some of my books. Had practice.” I dropped my bag on the ground and sat down on the floor in front of my locker as I caught my breath, rubbing my hands together.
“You look awful,” Caleb said.
I raised my head. “How charming of you to say.”
He dropped down beside me. “That’s me, princess.”
“Why are you still here?”
“I’m part of the drama club,” he answered. “I write plays.”
“Did you write the winter play last year?” I hadn’t seen it but Jasmine went, and gushed that it had been really good. Caleb nodded. “That’s so cool.”
I pointed at the notebook he always carried. “You’ve got a bunch of plays in there?”
“Mostly ideas for stories. I write a bit too.”
“My friend Drake used to write a lot. He went to university for journalism,” I said, leaning back on my hands.
“Drake?”
“Jasmine’s older brother. Graduated about two years ago,” I explained, and understanding appeared on his face. “Are you planning on going into screenwriting or something like that?”
“Maybe. I might take a year off, I don’t know yet.” He shrugged and slouched, his legs extending farther than mine as he moved down. “I got a question. Do you think aliens—” I shot him a strange look. “Hear me out. Do you think aliens exist?”
“Do you think aliens exist?” Whenever he had the chance to explain something, his eyes lit up in a wild way. It was funny to see him get passionate about a topic whenever he spoke—especially at lunch, considering he and Sam had joined our table again today.
“Not in space.”
“Then where?”
“The ocean.” He crossed his legs and my gaze dropped to the ink on his exposed ankle. “We barely know anything about the ocean and the shit we do know is already scary. Imagine what’s in the water where we can’t see. We’re fucked.”
“Caleb? I’m going to change the topic,” I said, knowing we would have a lot more conversations like this. I pointed at his ankle. “You have tattoos?”
“Yeah, I got a few. Wanna see?” He started pulling off his shirt, and I was quick to protest. “I’m kidding.” Caleb lifted his shirt a bit to expose the ink on his abdomen.
“You have a few quotes. For like, motivation or something?” He nodded. “Those are song lyrics, right? Is this a Justin Timberlake song?”
“He’s my personal inspiration.” He pointed along his body. “I’ve got a few images here. Small Rubik’s Cube on my wrist. My abuela’s birthday on my arm.”
“I like the lily.”
He raised his leg, pulling his sock down slightly. “It’s the first one I got.”
“How did you and Sam meet? You’re so chill while Sam’s—”
“Rude?”
“I was going to say brooding.”
“He has his moments,” Caleb said. “Sam moved here last summer but we met years ago. He and his family used to visit over the summer. I met him one year, a few months after I moved to Canada.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“El Salvador.” His smooth voice changed when he said the country’s name. “I lived in Scotland for a bit, too, before moving here with my tia and sister. When I was twelve, I went to a park with my sister, who can’t play catch to save her life. Sam caught the tennis ball we were throwing and he said, ‘Here you go.’ I said, ‘We both have weird accents.’ And he became my best friend not long after that. We would go to the park every day during the summer and hang out whenever he came back to Port Meadow. Always kept in contact.”
It wasn’t hard imagining miniature versions of Caleb and Sam interacting with one another for the first time. “You guys are kind of opposites.”
“So are you and Jasmine,” Caleb pointed out as my phone buzzed in my pocket. Cedric. I was debating how to respond when Caleb suddenly poked me in the side. “Loosen up.” He peeked over at my phone. “You look so serious half the time. Maybe Cedric of all people could help you do that.”
“Shut up,” I mumbled, shutting off my phone.
“Everyone was talking about your date earlier today, you excited?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Caleb looked at me curiously. “Wait, is this your first real date? Ever?” I didn’t answer him. “This is why the boys were so riled up about it? Macy, that’s fine. It makes sense to be nervous.”
“Cedric and I have been friends for a long time and I don’t know what exactly to expect,” I said.
The date had been on my mind since the party. What would we talk about? Where would we eat? What would I wear? I took a deep breath, avoiding the topic. “Anyway, I heard Cedric and Sam don’t like each other.”
“There’s been a lot of tension in that relationship that I don’t think I should get into,” Caleb muttered.
“I don’t get it. I mean, I can’t imagine someone disliking Cedric, and Sam’s a jerk but he’s my friend. He doesn’t seem like a horrible person.”
Caleb whipped his head in my direction. “He’s your friend now?”
“More like an acquaintance who’s growing on me,” I corrected. “Like a rash.”
Caleb laughed so loudly it carried down the hallway. “You’re a funny one, princess.”
“I wouldn’t ever like to be called that, but you’re growing on me, Charming.” I hit him playfully on the arm while stretching my legs.
“That’s my new name? I’ll take it.” He stood. “Have fun on your date, Macy.”
5
One of the Guys
I stared at myself in the mirror on Friday night. That long-awaited night that none of my friends had let me forget about throughout the week. Not that I wanted to forget about it. Even Caleb had pestered me about it, and he had more opportunities, too, since he and Sam joined our table at lunch. Jasmine and Drake were over—they came as a pair whenever he was home.
Jasmine noticed my worried expression. “Aren’t you excited? Nervous?”
Drake looked up from where he lay on my bed. He was home for the weekend for a job interview.
“I don’t think nervous or excited are the right words.” If this outing was with one of the boys, it would be different. My guy friends and I were messy, participating in the dumbest things and joking with each other all the time. I wasn’t interested in them in a romantic way. With Cedric, I expected to be nervous around him. To focus on not sounding like an idiot around him; to not blurt out something dumb or stupid. All day my thoughts were filled with multiple questions about what could happen, conjuring up a mixture of nervousness and excitement to fill my stomach. I could puke. Don’t.
“You look great,” Jasmine assured me. “He’s going to love you.”
She pushed me into my desk chair, holding something in her hand and I stopped her. “No makeup.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to look like a clown.” She came at me with one of the brushes and I moved away from her as if she was contagious.
“Makeup doesn’t make you look like a clown,” she said. “The eyes. Simple. I’ll give you mascara.” Makeup seriously wasn’t my thing. However, Jasmine and I being friends for years had taught me that whenever we disagreed, she’d usually win. I sighed when she said, “Look up.”
As she prodded at my eyelashes, I said, “Why would he want to go out with me, of all people, when he could go out with someone like—”
Jasmine’s movements stopped and her lips pursed. “Beatrice?”
“She’s the worst but boys flock to her,” I said. “She’s pretty. She’s not one of the guys.”
“You’re pretty even if you’re ‘one of the guys,’” Jasmine said. Drake made a sound of agreement, his eyes on the screen of my laptop. “Cedric’s definitely lucky to take you out tonight.”
“Are you okay?” I asked her. “Ever since the whole Beatrice thing you’ve been off.”
“What Beatrice thing?” Drake looked up. “What did she say?”
“She called me an Oreo.” Jasmine waved a hand in dismissal.
“What did she mean by that?” I asked.
“She’s trying to make me mad by saying that I’m not black enough. Because I go to school here, because I live here and not a lot of people look like me.” She sighed. “She’s basically telling me that I’ll never really fit in.”
“That’s not true,” I assured her, but she didn’t look convinced.
“Jasmine,” Drake said. “She’s trying to provoke you.”
“Into what?” I asked.
“She’s trying to make Jasmine angry,” Drake explained to me. “Trying to put her in a box. Jas, don’t let her get to you.”
“She’s done shit like that for a long time,” Jasmine mumbled. “It’s not only her. A lot of people expect it.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I’m, like, one of two black people in our grade. Beatrice calling me that is just another example of her trying to put me in that angry black woman stereotype. You may not see it or hear it but it happens.”
“That’s so dumb,” I said. “It’s the twenty-first century.”
“And racism and prejudice still exist,” Jasmine muttered. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Cedric’s going to be here soon.” She rummaged through my closet. I didn’t want to go out if she was feeling like this. “I’ve handled almost four years at school. I can deal with it.”
“Do you want to talk later?” I offered.
“I’ll be fine.” Her repetitive response didn’t faze me. She’d said the same after her breakup with Sean and now with Beatrice. She never spoke about what was bothering her and I was concerned about how she must be feeling. “I’ll watch Star Wars.”
“Weirdo,” Drake muttered.
“And you’re going to watch it with me,” she said to her brother.
“She still uses the fake lightsabers that you got her that one Christmas,” I said to Drake. Jasmine pulled me out of my room once I had grabbed my shoes, bringing me downstairs to where Dad and Justin were watching TV in the living room.
&nbs
p; “How does she look?” Jasmine asked.
My dad shot Jasmine a thumbs-up.
“Where are you going?” my brother piped up.
“She is going on a date,” Jasmine said, and I took a deep breath, a sudden wave of nervousness flooding me at the word date. I bit my lip and Jasmine nudged me with her elbow. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”
Justin’s jaw dropped and he got up from his position on the couch. “What the—and Krabs knew before I did? I’m being pranked. Where are the cameras?”
“You’re not being pranked.” Drake shrugged on his sweater. He pinched my cheek. “Macy’s growing up.” I swatted his hand away as the doorbell rang.
My dad stood. “What if I scare him a little?”
Drake and my dad were always like this whenever they were together—annoying me with their banter. As Jasmine and I had grown closer growing up, Drake eventually joined her at my house to hang out, playing video games. This resulted in him seeing my dad pretty often even during the summer when he came back from university. Although Drake had his own friends and life outside of this house, he was like my brother, and Dad thought of him and Jasmine as kids of his own.
“Please don’t.” Dad knew all of my guy friends but he’d never met Cedric. “I’m begging you.”
“Have fun,” Dad said, ignoring Drake and Justin urging him to embarrass me. “Be home before ten.”
“Eleven,” I bargained.
“Ten thirty.”
Drake and Jasmine said good-bye then opened the door and moved past Cedric on their way out. “Hey,” Cedric said.
My dad pushed his way through to stare at Cedric. “Hello,” he said menacingly.
I immediately pushed him inside. “Dad, no.”
I hoped there was an alternate universe where Mom was finding delight in this, right along with him. “Have fun, kids.”
Cedric never left a conversation hanging. That was one of the things I liked about him. We sat at a restaurant that night for hours, catching up with one another. He told me how he was trying to get scholarships to play rugby at college, and talked a bit about his friends. And whenever he spoke, his accent appeared when he articulated certain words.